


The Buzzing of the Bees

by persephermione



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bees, Ficlet, Fluff, Husbands, Kidlock, M/M, Retirementlock, Sherlock Holmes and Bees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 14:30:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6708472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephermione/pseuds/persephermione
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock lays in the green grass, little arms crossed over his chest, looking at bees going in and out of flowers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Buzzing of the Bees

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Пчелиный гул](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14441943) by [Little_Unicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Unicorn/pseuds/Little_Unicorn)



> I have no idea if any of these flowers actually grow in the same kind of climate, let alone grow well or at all in England. But they’re flowers that honeybees like. This is a kidlock au, they’re about 7 or 8 here (I imagine that Sherlock would’ve skipped a grade to be in John’s class).

Sherlock lays in the green grass, little arms crossed over his chest, looking at bees going in and out of the flowers. He watches one particularly fat golden insect bumble its way into the side of a bluebell before rerouting to land inside of it. His eyes trace its path to a hellebore, then a crocus before flying somewhere past where he can see.

He wipes away a tear, sniffling a little, and watches the other bees buzz around the garden. He had always loved the beehive in his backyard. He wasn’t allowed too close, Mummy was afraid he’d get stung, but he loved watching the little creatures. Especially here, right next to the patches of flowers near the house. It was one of his favorite places. There were lots of bugs and leaves and dirt for experiments but there were also bees to observe when it was warm out.

Sherlock sniffs again, rubbing at the wetness on his cheeks. 

He closes his eyes to the flowers around him, listening to the droning noise of the bees going about their business against the breeze rustling the trees.

He’s mostly finished crying when he hears a sound that doesn’t belong. Grass rustles before a stick crunches under a shoe and a plasticky groaning noise comes from somewhere off to his side.

He opens his eyes to see John Watson laying down next to him in the grass. 

He looks at John in surprise. His friend is holding a book in his lap that has the plastic cover and barcode of one borrowed from the library, but Sherlock can’t quite see the title. He doesn't acknowledge Sherlock at first, he just stares at the sky. Sherlock is noting that the blueness of his friend's eyes are deeper, prettier, than that of the sky, when suddenly the older boy turns to him.

“Did you know that bees have two stomachs?” John asks, twisting his head to look at Sherlock, who doesn’t get the chance to answer before John is speaking again.

“And they talk to each other about flowers with dances and they use different dances depending on how far away the flowers are. But my book didn’t really ‘splain how bees learn the different dances so I don’t know that. And also a bee has to go to two million flowers to make one pound of honey. You prob’ly already knew that, but I thought it was interesting.” 

Sherlock stares at John with confusion in his face, tears long forgotten.

“Some people don’t like bees, but I think that’s just 'cause they don’t know anything 'bout bees,” John says, shifting the book in his lap. Sherlock catches a glimpse of the cover which has what looked like a diagram of the honeybee on it.

“I’m sorry Sebastian made fun of you for liking bees,” John continues, “but I think he just doesn’t know anything about them, an' if he did then he’d know how amazing they are. I think that’s why he and the other kids don’t like you so much too. They don’t really know you so they’re mean, even though you’re amazing.”

John's eyes move back to the sky, apparently finished talking, his chubby cheeks darkening a little under his friend’s surprised gaze. Sherlock blinks at the golden-haired boy in surprise, but there's nothing in John's face to suggest that he's lying.

“Thank you,” Sherlock says quietly.

John turns back to him and grins, his whole face lighting up when he sees the corner of Sherlock’s mouth twitch in response.

John starts to say something more but before he can quite begin, a bee alights on John’s nose. Sherlock giggles and the bee flies away when John joins in, leaving the two boys laughing in the breeze.

. . .

Sherlock lays in the green grass, looking at bees going in and out of flowers. He watches one particularly fat golden insect bumble its way into the side of a bluebell before rerouting to land inside of it.

John lays next to him, asleep. He has gray hair, a much older face, but the same eyes. Eyes that right now are closed against the sun. John’s hands rest on top of the book on his stomach that he had fallen asleep reading.

Sherlock looks at the old honeybee diagram on the front cover of John’s stolen library book before he laces his fingers through John’s, wedding rings clinking, and closes his eyes, content to listen to the buzzing of the bees.


End file.
